Warm
by blumoone
Summary: It has been fifty years and yet still, the love, the craving, the desire between us still pulses strong...


**Author's Note:** I just can't leave this fandom alone. And I have no shame. No matter how True Blood went...it will always be one of my favorite shows and Pam/Tara will always be my favorite ship. All I have to do is read an old story by one of my favorite Tamela authors and it sucks me back in. Ah well, I hope this is read and received well. I literally wrote it in fifteen minutes and I have to be up in 5 hours for work. No matter, enjoy this one-shot and I plan to write more whenever the muse strikes. Happy Reading ^_^

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Oh God, but she is exquisite and I think I knew this well before I made her. If I close my eyes I can see how she looked to me then. So proud. Almost as arrogant as me. So strong. As strong as a throbbing pulse point between my fangs. So angry. Sure of herself as she stood with that wooden bullet loaded pistol aimed at my chest. I think I fell i love with her in that moment, caught between a desperate place where I needed the mind of my Maker restored while simultaneously I needed my head between her thighs and the warm red gush of her blood spurting from her femoral artery over my lips.

But now, now she is mine and I am hers. Our history means nothing half a century later; the love we have for one another continuing to thrum as steadily as the bond we share, easily overpowering our origin's volatile infancy.

I sit at my vanity, gently working my antique mother of pearl hair brush through my flaxen locks as I shamelessly regard her through the mirrow. She lays, carelessly lounging in the very middle of our king sized bed. Her head propped against one of the many pillows as she thumbs through a leather bound book of poetry I've owned since my human years. She is clad in her usual evening wear - a black tank, putting her toned arms on display, and black mesh shorts that cut off at the start of her succulently muscular ebony thighs. Its all the self restraint I have that keeps me from licking my lips at the sight.

Funny how I never thought it could be like this. When Eric Made me, I thought he would be my last. In the decades we spent together, there had been love, an almost desperate love that spoke of pain and of loss and of finally finding the one with whom we both had felt a void filled. But even that connection paled in comparison to this. Tara. Tara she is my other half. It is like the day I was born my soul was cleaved in two, and for as long as I roamed the earth until that fateful day in the underbelly of the original Fangtasia, had been desperately searching for its missing piece. Who would have thought it would be found the instant I tumbled into a set of deep brown eyes.

"I can feel you staring at me, you know," her voice almost startles me but as I am still watching her, I can see the moment her mouth moves though she doesn't look up from the book.

Had I been human, I might have blushed. Maybe. I set the brush down and turn to properly face my progeny. My lover. My mother, sister, daughter. Other titles that surpass that which can be defined.

"I like looking at you," I volley back, much too proud to fabricate an excuse for my ogling, "Makes me want to do all sorts of bad things to you."

A dark chuckle passes smoke like through the air. "Yeah I can feel that too."

I feign frustration, my petal pink lips curving into a petulant pout as I rise from the bench of my vanity, "Can you? You seem to be preoccupied with that book."

She sets it aside almost instantly and fixes her dark gaze on me and at once, my pussy starts to throb. Can't be helped. My lover is an aphrodisiac without having to try.

"I don't have to look at you to know how you're feeling babe," she says slowly, that low twang of hers caressing my ear drums, "Just like I don't have to breathe to know them lacy draws of yours are a second away from being soaked..."

My chest rumbles with a growl, down in my throat, the raunchy words sure enough adding to my budding arousal. The things she can do to me even from all the way over there.

"I can feel you. And when you're thinking about me, watching me, loving me, it feels warm," she taps the place above where her heart ceased to beat so long ago, "Right here."

"Well," I purr, stalking toward the bed, too far gone by this point to offer any sappy sentiments in return, "I know a couple ways we can make it warmer.

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 _ **Please review...thanks**_


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